


How We Were

by Megatr0n



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Reaper76 Week, and stuff, i don't do tags just take this, idk - Freeform, there's war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:02:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9334442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megatr0n/pseuds/Megatr0n
Summary: Jack Morrison takes a chance to reflect on his past relationship while suffering from a concussion.





	

It wasn’t always like this. The crack of ribs as a hard fist collided with his trunk, picking out shotgun pellets from a shoulder at night, the chance encounters that always ended with a new injury and scar, and, as of right now, being pinned under the heavy sole of the enemy, trapped and at his mercy as he sneered and snarled threats and vague accusations which couldn’t be focused on by the soldier as he struggled to keep his windpipe from being crushed.

Everything had a better time, and Jack Morrison wondered when he’d have a better time again as he managed to pull out his combat knife, stabbing the seven inch blade into the meat of a thigh, drawing out a pained hiss from his assailant who immediately drew away in reflex. _I should get that knife back_ , was what managed to come to Jack’s mind as he scrambled up and started to run, trying to get some distance between himself and the revenant who was hell bent on ending him.

His rifle had been tossed away right at the beginning of the fight, Reaper catching him off guard when he phased through a wall, grabbed Jack in a shroud of oily black, and pulled back _towards_ said wall, slamming the very much still solid Jack into the concrete structure, stunning him while the rest of the black mass disappeared back into the room on the other side. The tired soldier assumed that his attacker thought that was a pretty funny trick and when he whirled to collect himself, the black mass came back, this time wrenching away the pulse rifle and tossing Jack to the ground, where he was then previously pinned mere moments ago. Everything happened in less than two minutes, and Jack was fairly certain he had a concussion, but he managed to keep running, picking up his rifle, abandoning his knife, and getting away from having to deal with Reaper yet again. He was good at running, running into physical fights, running from the less tangible fights, if he was going to be good at doing something, at least he still had that.

He gained enough distance to get away from the old military base, sneaking back through the hole in the fence he cut, passed the guard that he had knocked unconscious ten minutes ago, wondered briefly if that man would be alright, then stole a civilian sedan and relaxed in the driver’s seat as the auto-driver kicked in, destination currently unknown. Jack’s head swam, it felt heavy and full of cotton, and if he looked out the window at the passing scenery, he thought he’d vomit, so he was thankful this apparently luxury sedan had a privacy feature that automatically tinted all windows with the push of a button.

Breaking and entering into a military base, grand theft auto, assaulting a military officer, accidentally stealing a chocolate bar from a convenience store earlier (he put it in his pocket and forgot about it, but paid for his cola), Jack went through the crimes he managed to commit within the last half day, drifting in and out of lucidity as his head throbbed and his throat felt sore, the feeling all too familiar to him.

“Tea,” a harsh voice insisted, its owner settling down next to him in the muddy trench.

Jack managed to look up, peering over his cap that was doing its best to keep the rain out of his eyes. Gabriel stood, hand out, offering him a steaming thermos, a waterproof thermal blanket wrapped around his shoulders, the color of mud.

“Thanks,” taking the tea, he muttered with a scratchy throat, pale, shivering, coming down with some sort of cold in this miserable hole dug in the middle of nowhere outside of Stuttgart, nestled in among the ruins of the countryside.

The omnics had been pushing hard in an attack against the city again, and the Crusaders were dwindling in number, so Overwatch and its very own Crusader were called in to try to keep the city from falling while supporting the German and NATO forces, but the effort seemed hopeless as small town after small town crumbled and fell to the onslaught. To compound upon that, Jack felt absolutely miserable since the rain began to fall, the water acrid from the constant burning of oil and machinery that stung his eyes and made his skin red and irritated. His muscles ached and his bones felt cold, they’d spent hours trying to dig new tunnels and trenches into the mud with little to show for it, the rain making it too hard to do much other than create a mess. Everything was muddy, from head to toe, he felt like he’d be cleaning dirt from under his nails for a week after they get back to Zurich for debriefing. He definitely knew he was just going to trash the clothes he brought, not wanting to keep anything that would hold the memory of mud, claustrophobia and the occasional artillery fire that would spook them in the middle of the night.

“You look terrible, Jack, we should call to have you taken back to the base to get looked at.” Gabriel frowned, his harsh expression softening with concern. He had a gauze patch slapped over the right side of his face, the result of shrapnel striking him. The field medic said it’d scar and he wasn’t exactly please with that reaction, but Jack had only rolled his eyes and said scars weren’t so bad, might rough up that baby face of his. The medic would’ve come in handy right about now, but a bullet to the head put an end to that, and now they were waiting for another to be dispatched out along with a new garrison of NATO troops to supplement the one stationed with Overwatch.

Jack only shook his head, sipping from the grey and orange thermos, relishing the warmth running down his throat and spreading to his stomach. “I’m fine, Commander, besides, we need to stay put otherwise we’ll alert the tin cans.” And the tea was already making him feel better.

“If those tin cans don’t get you, then whatever bug you’re getting from crawling around in the mud will.” Gabriel nudge him, scooting closer so he could get his arm and the blanket around Jack, pulling him in. He shifted, almost about to protest, but relaxed, easing into the feeling of Gabriel’s warm body pressed against his own, the blanket holding in the heat.

“Don’t worry, I’m indestructible, remember? The General said so, the Overwatch UN committee said so too, and the President herself called me Evel Knievel.” He managed to grin at Gabriel, who looked thoroughly unamused.

“You do know that isn’t really a compliment, since you were only told that because you tend to rush into everything and not giving a damn about the consequences.” He said with a scowl, voice a gravelly hiss. “You get hurt, I’ll kill you, you get killed, I’ll find you in hell, bring you back, then kill you again. You got that, sunshine?” He prodded Jack in the shoulder to drive the point, but Jack just snickered and swatted his hand away, not taking the threats of his CO at all seriously. Kill Jack? No. Go to hell to bring Jack back? Yeah, he could see that part though, like something out of a comic book, complete with cheesy looking demons with sharp claws and too many teeth.  

Jack didn’t offer him an answer though, feeling incredibly weary, he only sank against his partner’s body and reached for the hand he previously swatted away, taking it, examining the small scrapes and bruises along Gabriel’s knuckles before lacing their fingers together. “We’re going to make it through this, Gabe, we make it through everything, even when things are tough, everything has a better time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was waiting forever for a Reaper76 week so I could publish at least one (1) thing.


End file.
